ANOTHER TREASURE ABOUT TO FALL: JOHN MARSHALL HIGH SCHOOL

The landmark John Marshall High School is about to succumb to the wrecking ball.  At the beginning of October, I sent a plea to each of the Cleveland School Board members, to the School CEO Eric Gordon, and to Mayor Frank Jackson, asking them to to reconsider their decision to demolish John Marshall.  All of these public servants have the power to stand up and say, “Let’s not do this.”  But they have not spoken up.   They are choosing to remain silent.

It is almost too late now.  Within a few weeks, this beautiful structure will be gone. Some of the stonework is currently being removed, to be saved “for future reuse.”  I would still welcome some sort of stay of execution for this wonderful landmark.  But damage has now been done.  It is definitely the eleventh hour for John Marshall.

What they are about to do is a tragedy and a travesty.  

And there is nothing I can really do to stop  it.  A ‘Save John Marshall’ Facebook group, led by the indefatigable Satinder Puri, has lobbied the city administration and the school board for months to try to save the building, but their voices were not heard.  As mine has not been heard.  Maybe our voices have been heard, but not really listened to.  This pretty clear from the reply letter I received from School CEO Gordon (posted below), where he reiterates the same tired talking points about why the building must come down. 

Existing spandrel panel soon to be lost under a pile of rubble.

There are questions about the whole decision-making process.  Questions about the propriety of the Landmark de-listing hearing by the City Landmarks Commission.  Questions about the calculations used to compare the costs of replacing the building versus renovating the existing structure.  Questions about the accuracy of the square footage numbers used in those calculations.  And questions about whether the cost of asbestos abatement and building demolition were figured into the pricetag for the new building.  These questions have gone unanswered.  

CEO Gordon did offer me an image of the new building to be constructed in John Marshall’s place.  The reader can judge for oneself whether he or she thinks the new building will have the character and level of craftsmanship of the old, and whether the new John Marshall will ever stand a chance of being listed as a City Landmark.

Rendering of Proposed New John Marshall High School (Image courtesy CMSD)

Here is my letter to CEO Gordon:

4 October 2012

Eric S. Gordon, CEO

Cleveland Metropolitan School District Board of Education
1380 East Sixth Street, Room 152
Cleveland, Ohio 44114 

Dear Mr. Gordon,

I am writing to you to tell you that it is not too late.  Yes, the construction trailer is on site, the fences have gone up, and interior materials abatement has begun, but the solid shell of the John Marshall High School building is still wholly intact.  I am writing to you as a concerned citizen, neighborhood resident, and architect to urge you to STOP the demolition of John Marshall.  This noble structure can and should be renovated to continue serving the educational needs of our children for generations to come.  

    

John Marshall boasts beautiful brick and stone construction, as well as fine Art Deco detailing that cannot be replicated in a new building.  Overall, the structure is in very good physical condition, especially for a building that is 80 years old.  The brick is not spalling.  The foundations are not moving.  It has many pleasant, light-filled classrooms.  This solid and proud building has stood for many years as a true landmark in the neighborhood.  It is a part of the community, and it is an enduring symbol of our forbearers’ commitment to the ideals of a quality public education for all.

We all can agree that our students deserve top-notch facilities in which to learn and succeed.  The building as it stands may not meet all the needs of modern educational facilities.  But surely at least part of John Marshall, in particular the original core of the building that fronts on West 140^th Street, could be saved and renovated for use as general purpose classrooms.  The City of Cleveland has stated that it wants to be a leader in the field of sustainability.  Saving and renovating historic structures is the most ‘green’ type of architecture that can be done, earning numerous credits under the LEED certification system.  Just as John Hay High School was renovated and is now a gem of the East side, John Marshall has the potential to be the pride of the West side. 

If you take action to stop this senseless demolition, I am fairly confident that at least 216 members of the Save John Marshall Facebook group, as well as the 2,000 signers of a petition to renovate, would change their votes from ‘No’ to ‘Yes’ on Issue 107.  Because you will have done the right thing.  And you will have demonstrated to us that the School Board is taking Cleveland’s school system in a positive new direction.

Attached for your review, please find my Elegy for the School of the Arts, about another community treasure that was recently lost to demolition.  The location and particulars of the buildings are different, but both structures are architectural gems, built in a time when civic institutions were constructed with pride and intended to endure for many years.  It is too late for the School of the Arts.

But it is not too late for John Marshall.  I understand that the OSFC funding system makes it more challenging to renovate rather than build new.  But sometimes the more arduous path is the more rewarding path.  And it’s never too late to do the right thing.  Until it is, of course.  Until the first day that the backhoes start ripping into the hallowed brick and stone of John Marshall High School.  Then, it will be too late. 

As CEO of the Cleveland Metropolitan School District, you have the power to save this civic treasure.  I ask you to do so now. 

Respectfully,

Daniel DeAngelo

Architect/Town Planner

Here is his response:

The City of Cleveland continues to head in the wrong direction by recklessly destroying its precious architectural legacy.  One day, we will wake up and look around, and we may find that there is nothing left of value in our city to save.  

R.I.P. John Marshall High School. 

PROPOSED DUNHAM GREEN: GOOD OR BAD FOR THE URBAN FABRIC?

6611 Euclid Avenue Building with Dunham Tavern to its right. (Google Earth.)

A Cleveland developer has dropped his plans to convert a former warehouse building at 6611 Euclid Avenue into a tech incubator.¹ The folks who run the Dunham Tavern Museum next door, a historic stagecoach stop and accompanying urban garden, have purchased the warehouse and plan to demolish it.  While the Dunham Tavern won’t have to live in the shadow of this structure any longer, it remains to be seen whether the loss of the building will be beneficial for the neighborhood and the city as a whole.

BENEFITS OF REHABBING AN EXISTING STRUCTURE

When the rehab project for 6611 was announced last December, it seemed to be a good idea.²  It would have made use of an existing vacant structure, and the proposed tech incubator would have generated additional activity along the Healthline transit corridor.

West Façade of 6611 Euclid Avenue Building. (Google Earth.)

The 6611 building has an expressive character and a muscular exposed concrete structure.  This aesthetic would have fit well with the edgy, forward thinking world of tech startups. Rehabbing the building would be an environmentally sustainable course of action, which also has appeal to these types of companies. 

Reusing the building would also preserve a memory of Cleveland’s industrial legacy.  The layering of history in a city helps make a place more interesting and unique.  Christopher Busta-Peck gives an insightful take on this idea at his  Cleveland Area History blog.  Busta-Peck says, "6611 Euclid . . . provides real context for the museum.  It illustrates how the city grew up around this tavern, and the level of development threats faced by it.  It hints at how close the tavern might have come to being demolished itself."³ He adds in another post, "The Dunham Tavern will be much less impressive as a survivor when we lose the physical manifestation of the changes that it lived through."⁴

PROPOSED DUNHAM GREEN

On the other hand, a green square park surrounding the Dunham Museum does have some appeal.  This green space could become an amenity that adds value to the surrounding properties, and to the buildings that eventually may cluster around it.  Think of Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia.   Rittenhouse Square and the proposed Dunham Green would be about the same size—approximately 650 feet by 650 feet.  If this new ‘town green’ in Midtown could become the center of a dense, mixed use neighborhood fabric, it would be a good thing. 

But that’s a big ‘If.’

 Aerial photo of Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia.  (Google Earth.)

Compare the area surrounding Rittenhouse Square with the current density surrounding the 6611 Euclid property in the accompanying aerial photos.  Rittenhouse Square has been an elite address and the center of its Philadelphia neighborhood since the early 1800’s, and much of the surrounding historic urban fabric is still intact.  Also, Rittenhouse Square is only 4 blocks/¼ mile/a 5 min. walk from Market Street—Philadelphia’s main commercial street—and about ½ mile from their City Hall.

 

Aerial photo of Dunham Tavern  and 6611 Euclid Avenue, Cleveland.  (Google Earth.) 

In Cleveland, much of the fabric around the Dunham Tavern has been demolished, or is light industrial in use.  The proposed Dunham Green doesn’t have the same proximity to a thriving commercial center as Rittenhouse Square does.  However, the Tavern’s location right on the Healthline does shorten travel distances. Dunham is 1 mile/20 min. walk/6 min. on the Healthline from Cleveland Clinic, and 1.5 miles/30 min. walking/10 min. by bus from CSU.  It is 2 miles from University Circle, 3 miles from Public Square.  So there is potential for redevelopment around this site. 

DAYDREAM INTO REALITY

One can envision Dunham Green as an oasis in the middle of a dense city fabric that stretches from Downtown to University Circle. 

It’s a nice urban daydream.  But it’s a long haul from today’s existing conditions to get there. 

If the city wants this dream to become a reality, it should create a master plan for the blocks directly adjacent to the new Green, including a form-based code to ensure that future development on these properties is in alignment with this urban vision.  

 

CONCLUSION

Still hate to see these great warehouse buildings being torn down.  There’s a lot of embedded energy in that concrete structure.  More importantly, buildings of character are vanishing literally each day from our city.  And the unique perspective that these structures lend to understanding our history—where we have been and where we are now—is disappearing along with them.

NOTES

¹ Michelle Jarboe McFee, “Developer drops plan to remake Euclid Ave. building; nearby museum wants to knock it down,” The Plain Dealer, 3 February 2012:

http://www.cleveland.com/business/index.ssf/2012/02/developer_drops_plan_to_remake.html

² Michelle Jarboe McFee, “Regional Transit Authority to sell blighted building that mars Cleveland's Health-Tech Corridor,” The Plain Dealer, 23 December 2011:

http://www.cleveland.com/business/index.ssf/2011/12/post_94.html

³ Christopher Busta-Peck, “Euclid Avenue: What We've Lost and What We Will Probably Lose,” Cleveland Area History, 27 September 2010.  Web.  12 June 2012:

http://www.clevelandareahistory.com/2010/09/euclid-avenue-what-weve-lost-and-what.html

⁴ Christopher Busta-Peck, “Cincinnati and Cleveland,” Cleveland Area History, 1 March 2011.  Web.  12 June 2012:

http://www.clevelandareahistory.com/2011/03/cincinnati-and-cleveland.html

SCHOOL OF THE ARTS R.I.P.

They’ve finally gone and done it.

For weeks now, I’ve been reluctant to drive over to the East side of Cleveland, in the vicinity of  University Circle. 

I have been dreading the drive east on Chester, then the turn south onto Martin Luther King Jr. Drive.  Because at a certain point along MLK, just past the Parkside Dwellings apartment building, I knew that someday soon I would round this bend, and in place of the beautiful and noble Cleveland School of the Arts Building,

I would find

A big

pile

of rubble.

And a space now filled with sky, where a solid edifice of red-orange brick proudly stood for 110 years.  One hundred ten years.

Last night,

that nightmare came true.

Even though I was prepared for the eventual blow, it still, literally, made me feel sick to my stomach to see the building gone.  Forever.  

Contractors had been dismantling the school building for months, doing asbestos abatement, and jackhammering loose some of the ornate glazed terra cotta tile trim pieces around the entranceways for “preservation” and “future re-use.”  Some fools’ cold comfort that is.

I had been hoping against hope.

  

That someone—a School Board member, a Councilperson, the Mayor—would see the facades of roman brick, still straight and true after over a century of use.  They would see the real jack arches spanning all of the window openings. 

They would see the exquisite buff-colored, glazed terra cotta cornices and that ornate detailing around the entries.  Really see them.  And, somehow, they would realize the gravity of what we were losing.  They would see that we can’t build structures of such quality and craftsmanship anymore.  And they would see the foolishness of allowing the destruction of this handsome building.

  

I was wrong.  No one came to this building’s rescue.  Not even me. 

It’s kind of silly to say, but I feel a bit like Charlton Heston at the end of the film Planet of the Apes, when he cries out:  

“Oh my God. . . .We finally really did it. You Maniacs! You blew it up! Ah, damn you! . . . damn you all to Hell!”

I feel powerless. 
For they just keep tearing down my beautiful city, brick by brick, and building by building.  Until some day, not far in the future, there will be nothing of worth left. 

Demolition of important historical works of architecture is happening in this City at an alarming rate.  These treasures are disappearing from existence on an almost weekly basis. 

It’s hard to keep up:  The Columbia Building, The Alhambra Apartments. The 1874 Stanley Building—one of the last remaining late nineteenth century structures in downtown Cleveland—has been condemned by the Building Department and is threatened with demolition.  CSU has recently won approval from the Landmarks Commission to tear down Walker & Weeks’ Wolfe Music Building on Euclid Avenue.  Next on the chopping block:  John Marshall High School. 

And on it goes.

At the School of the Arts, I mused on the idea of somehow chaining myself to the building to prevent its demolition and bring attention to this travesty.  But I told myself I couldn’t figure out the practicalities of it— Would I set up a tent and have my wife resupply me with food and other necessities?  Would I end up going to jail?  How does one go to the bathroom while chained to a building? If anyone even paid attention and asked me why I was doing it, could I speak eloquently enough about the issue?

I guess this wasn’t my moment yet, because I didn’t have the nerve. 

I do feel passionately about the issue of Preservation.  For two reasons:

First, reusing older buildings is more sustainable than building new (even if the replacement buildings are “green” and LEED certified).  Renovation conserves raw materials like wood, brick, steel, glass, and stone.  It also conserves the energy used to build these historic structures in the first place.  And it saves the energy used to extract and fabricate new construction materials.  These strategies reduce the impact of building construction on climate change.  If Cleveland wants to live up to its stated goal of being a sustainable city, then it must stop demolishing historic buildings, and start preserving and reusing them.

Second, older buildings are a legacy from our ancestors.  These buildings are our history.  They are valuable artifacts of our culture.  They speak of the values of the time in which they were constructed: craftsmanship, beauty, civic pride.  They are the sweat and the treasure and the hopes of those that came before us.  We toss them aside as if they no longer have any value.  Would we throw away old family photographs, the family silver, our grandmother’s quilt, because they are seen as out of fashion, or not the latest materials or technology?  Some would.  Those on the Cleveland School Board, some members of the Cleveland Landmarks Commission, and many others in this city would.

At a January 12 meeting, the Landmarks Commission was discussing whether to remove the existing Historic Landmark designation from another school building—John Marshall High School—and pave the way for its demise. Commission member and Ward 5 Councilwoman Phyllis Cleveland said, 

“I don’t really know a lot about preservation or architecture, but I do like new things.  I am not a preservationist. . . . I vote demolition.”¹

We elect public officials to represent our interests and to be good caretakers of our public assets.  These solid, historic school buildings are the collective assets of the community.  We, the people, own them.  The first responsibility of our representatives in every case should be to determine the best and highest use of these pieces of our architectural heritage.  And then, with all the facts at their disposal, they should carefully decide whether to renovate, re-purpose, sell, or as an absolute last resort, demolish.  Our public officials have not been doing this job very well. 

The School of the Arts was in sound condition.  The brick was not spalling.  The cornices were not in disrepair.  In fact, the windows were recently replaced.  And a new roof had been installed ten years ago and was in “excellent” condition, according to the OSFC assessment.  Perhaps the needs of the SOA for performance space, specialized practice rooms, art studios, etc. could not be accommodated within the existing facility.   If renovation was truly not cost effective, as the School Board claims, then City officials should have exhausted all of the following possibilities before arriving at the decision to demolish:

§    Could a new SOA building have been built elsewhere on the campus shared with John Hay High School, while preserving the original SOA building for some other use?  There is a lot of open land on the eleven-acre campus, including expansive parking lots facing Carnegie Avenue.

§      Could an alternate site have been found for a new SOA facility, and the existing building put to some other useful purpose?  Surely, with the amount of disinvestment and foreclosure that has taken place in the city over the past few years, there must be nearby empty land that could have been used as a SOA campus. 

§   Could the SOA building have been saved and sold to another owner?  The building is directly across the street from the Case Western Reserve University campus.  Student housing is in high demand in University Circle.  Could it have been converted to student apartments?    

Is demolition really the best solution that we could come up with? 

The needless demolition of the School of the Arts shows a lack of vision, a lack of creative thinking, and a lack of good stewardship on the part of our elected officials.  Surely, we deserve better. Surely, we as a community can do better.   

Our ancestors built these magnificent structures.  We were given the responsibility of caring for these buildings.  We are foolhardy to demolish this legacy.  Our children will question our recklessness and wonder at what we were thinking.

Are we doomed as a society, as a city, because of the demolition of a single historic school building?

Perhaps not.  

But last night, as I rounded that bend on MLK Drive,

I wasn’t so sure.

NOTES

¹Ken Prendergast, "Cleveland Landmarks Commission Clears Way for John Marshall High School Demolition," Sun News, 19 January 2012:

http://www.cleveland.com/sunpostherald/index.ssf/2012/01/cleveland_landmarks_commission.html